Religion In My Life

Childhood

When I was young, religion in my family was optional. We were given the option of choosing to practice if we wished, and with whatever church we wanted to.

Mum often took my two brothers and myself to different local churches so we could experience it for ourselves and decide whether it was something we wanted in our lives. Being an atheist herself, I considered this very open-minded of her.

After our involvement in the different Sunday School groups and listening to the various preachers spreading their slightly differing words, all three of us decided to believe in something more than what could be found within the walls of those buildings. Church however was not for us.

Schools had Religious Studies for a small while but even they were succumbing to the fact that society in New Zealand was too diverse for them to concentrate on what was deemed to be an area for the individuals and their families to decide.

Adulthood

When I gave birth to my son Dylan in 1993 I was over the moon. He was my pride and joy. The fact that he was born out of wedlock didn’t even enter into the equation. Pre marital sex had long been a normal part of my life, as it was for all of my friends.

In 1994, when I started writing to my pen pal in Ireland, I never asked him about his religion. It just wasn’t something I’d think of asking. I really didn’t care. He was a wonderful person that I had a report with and that was all I needed to know.

Marriage

By the end of 1998, we had met for the first time as a couple (already engaged) and were now preparing to get married. That’s when religion reared its head for the first time in a long time.

His parents were the first to broach the subject.

“Are ye getting married in a church?” was the first thing they said when we told them the news.

A church? Why would we be getting married in a church? There were some cute chapels around the town but I didn’t want a church wedding. I wanted to get married outside, be at one with nature so to speak.

Luckily enough my future husband agreed with the whole outdoors concept. We contacted a Justice for the Peace, and were wed by a brook in the city’s Botanical Gardens. It was a perfect day for us.

Culture shock

Two months later we decided to move to Ireland.

The thing that I had the most difficulty with, and still do to this day, is the religious side of Ireland. Not really a problem, just a difficulty in understanding this new system.

When Dylan started school here, Religion was one of his subjects. Religion? Not only was it a subject, but also I was supposed to pray with him every night. How was that supposed to work?

Not wanting to be a hypocrite, I explained to Dylan that this would be impossible for me to do, as it wasn’t something I personally believed in. He was worried what the teacher would say about him not doing this part of his homework. He hated getting in trouble with his teachers.

At my first Irish parent-teacher meeting, Dylan’s teacher (a nun) tried to pass on a copy of a religious video. Even with my obvious lack of interest she continued with her haranguing, but to no avail. I would not be doing his prayers with him. That was my choice, not hers.

Christening

The beginning of 2001 saw the arrival of my second child Christine (born in wedlock this time!), and Dylan’s first holy communion. Religion was starting to appear all over the place now.

My husbands’ parents wanted Christine to be christened. I refused repeatedly. I didn’t want Dylan to feel like he was different from Christine, seeing as he was never christened.

I didn’t realise how important it was to my In-laws until they started to back away from their non-christened grandchild. With all of us under the same roof at that time, I backed down and agreed to let my Mother-In-Law arrange it. She was delighted. I was angry but understanding towards them. It was obviously something they felt very strongly about.

I had absolutely no idea on anything to do with christenings.

One of my friends had a naming ceremony once, which was basically a christening, but without the baptismal into the church. It would be up to the child to decide on that when she was old enough to. That was the closest I ever got to a christening in my life.

When Christine’s ‘big day’ came I felt so awkward and uncomfortable in the church, and during the whole ceremony. To me it wasn’t introducing her to the church, but keeping the peace within the only family that she had in Ireland. Not the holiest of reasons, nevertheless it was a reason.

From the mouth of babes

Dylan watched this entire happening, and decided that he had to talk to me about the finer details, so he could understand this whole religion concept.

“Why do they want Christine to get christened Mum?”

“It’s something that they believe very strongly about. It’ll make them happy.”

“Well I think they’re very silly wasting their time. She’s sure to get into heaven!”

I couldn’t help but smile in agreement as he gave me a big hug. He understood better than most.

Dylan’s school were also pressuring him to get baptised so that he could take Holy Communion. After much deliberation he decided that he didn’t want to do it, even if all his friends were. Not even the idea of receiving lots of money (whatever the religious aspect of that is?) would change his mind.

This wasn’t acceptable to his school, so the priest paid me a visit, wishing to discuss my son’s religious choice.

He was told that Dylan had made up his mind and that was the end of the matter for now. My husband mentioned to the priest that the topic was not to be brought up with Dylan again by anyone in the school unless he notified them otherwise.

Divorce

After five years in Ireland, my homeland was calling me back to it. I went first, followed three months later by my husband.

Instead of a happy reunion, as one might expect, we argued from the moment he got here. It turned out that we were not able to bring out the best in each other. We tried for a few more months to patch up what was left of our relationship, but he looked at me with hate, and I looked at my children with hope.

We separated and will be finalising our divorce shortly.

In the eyes of the church, this is not how it should have gone. Strangely enough, I wish that they were right on that one. It would have been amazing to have gotten it right first time; to have lived that happily ever after fairytale.

Stronger inside me however is the desire that my children learn to follow their hearts and feel happy in their home, rather than tense. My instinct as a Mother, like most, is extremely powerful, and protecting my young is what I will strive to do, no matter what the personal cost may be.

Tolerance and understanding

The hardest thing for me (coming from a non-religious background) is trying to understand the ceremonial parts of religion, and the seemingly deep-rooted ideas of right and wrong.

I’ve heard so many horror stories regarding immoral behaviour within the clergy, illegal adoptions, and the likes of the Magdalene laundries (to name but a few); I find it hard to fathom why people would involve themselves in organised religious groups that have condoned this for so long.

I was raised on children’s stories that taught me to be good and kind, and not to harm my fellow man, yet I have found a great deal of good catholic people that don’t even seem to be able to manage that.

“Thou shalt gossip with malice” and “Hate thy neighbour” seem to have unwittingly planted themselves in amongst the original commandments. It’s amazing how many people break anything up to seven commandments in any given week!

I am a firm believer in letting people have their own views and I would never try to convert anyone into an atheist, nor would I tell them that they are wrong to believe in what they believe.

All that I ask is that they extend me the same courtesy.

Understand that this is how I feel and I should not be persecuted because of it. Neither should my children or anyone else.

As we grow into adults, supposedly more mature than children, that is when we make mistakes and perhaps judge others alike far too quickly.

In summary

A person that tells a six-year-old boy that he’s going to hell because he wasn’t christened is not a good person. Perhaps Dylan can sum this up better than I ever could.

“All children are God’s children. Born free from sin. He’s in my heart and always watching over me. Wherever I may be”.

Religion should be more than just buildings. It should be a belief in something that is good. It should help people to not only help themselves, but those around them too. It should teach tolerance to others and not be judgemental of those who are different.

Religion (and its merchants) shouldn’t be telling me, and others like me, that we are bad (or evil) people. Mankind does not and should not have that power to condemn people in the name of some greater force.

If God does exist, then it shall be him that I answer to, as we all will.

I have faith in the goodness of my heart, life, and soul (something I do believe in strongly).

Do you?